This is My Second Life

Life Story of Tina Fleischman

My name is Tina Fleischman. And this is my first life. All the ups and downs and the messy bits in between. All of which shape me into the person I am supposed to be. I just don’t know who that person is at this point. Will I like her? Will she be a force to be reckoned with? Or will she be timid and unassuming? These are the questions whose answers I don’t know at this point. But I’m willing to wait. However long it takes.

…………………

Winter was lost to the fragrances of roses. Spring had arrived. There were colors and scents everywhere she turned. Such beauty surrounding us. With that our spring holidays start. I’m excited because I get to go visit my Grandmother. My best friend. My only friend, really. Aside from my big sister, Stephanie.

…………………

Life was perfect for me for so many years. I had two beautiful children. Rebecca, my joy in life. And Steve, my pride and strength. Sam and the kids were my everything. But tragedy doesn’t care how perfect your life is. It doesn’t care that you deserve this happiness in your life. And when tragedy strikes, it doesn’t stop.

The first one was on the day I lost Sam (My Husband). The accident that took him from me came out of nowhere. When I heard the news, everything inside of me shattered. I fell apart. I felt my soul shredding in two. How could this have happened? Not Sam. Not my loving husband who left pressed flowers for me in my favourite books. Who tended to Rebecca’s (daughter) wounds when she fell off her bike and scraped her knee. Who helped Steve (son) built his model airplanes. Who took Nana to her doctor’s appointments. He was everything for everyone. And now he was gone from our lives.

I didn’t know if I could pick the broken pieces of myself up. But I had to try. For the kids. Because I was all they had left now. But could I raise my kids alone now?

I had to try.

I had to try.

I had to try.

This was the constant reminded in my head. The reason I could wake up in the mornings. The reason I could face the day with dry eyes and a solemn heart.

I had to try.

And for the most part. I did.

But tragedies strike in threes. I just didn’t know if I had the strength to face the rest.

…………………

People come and go in our life every day. Some stay while others wither away from it. Because that is the grand thing called life. And if we stayed and cried over every lost thing then we would have lived our life in regret. In small moments with no real adventure.

After Sam’s death, I didn’t think I would be able to be everything for my children. Be their mother and their father. Filling the gap that Sam had left behind. Adapting to become a single parent wasn’t something that came with a guide.

It was at times like this that I was extremely grateful for Nana. She was my rock. My shelter. My constant pillar. She was there for me every step of the way to the point that I don’t think I would have survived if it hadn’t been for her. She is my pride and joy.

But these last few years, she’s grown old and weary. Her strong and capable hands don’t have the same strength as they used to. Seeing her in pain is crushing me. And I’m reminded of that ominous feeling again.

Tragedies strike in threes.

…………………

The winter this year is the harshest I’ve ever seen. With the biting cold winds that permeate the air, one would think that the cold is inside of us. The sun giving us winking reminders every now and then as dark clouds cover the sky.

On such a morning like this, I work in the kitchen, making dinner before the kids get home from school. Nana sitting on the kitchen counter, peeling fruits. Both of us working in companionable silence until Nana speaks up.

“I’m content now. I have no weight on my shoulders. No regrets. No worries left.”

Something about the tone of her voice, this heavy underlying message that she wanted me to decipher, had me turning around to face her fully with an incredulous look on my face.

“I don’t understand. What are you saying?” I ask her.

Nana looks up from her hands and gives me her warm smile, “You’ve grown into such a remarkable young woman, dear. I’m never been prouder of you than I am right now. How you’ve turned your life around. How you’ve taken care of this house. How you’ve become everything for those two kids. There isn’t a challenge you can’t overcome, Tina.”

Tears filled my eyes at her words, “Why are you saying all of this now?”

Nana stands up from her perch and walks over to me. She takes a hold of my hands and brings them up to her heart, “I’m saying all of this because there’s another challenge coming your way. And I want you to be strong. Just like before.”

“I barely held myself together last time. I could never have done that if it weren’t for you.”

Nana’s brow furrowed, “That’s what you think. But, Tina, you have so much strength in you. You just can’t see it.”

I shook my head at her and rubbed furiously at the tears streaming down my face, “Why are you saying all of this? Tell me the truth. Now.”

Nana sighed and placed her hands on my cheeks. She looked in my eyes and I saw tears fill hers as well, “I’m not long for this world.”

My breath hitched in my throat, “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. You’re okay. Nothing’s wrong. The new medication is working. Your looking healthier these days.”

Her eyes turned downcast, “Call me an old woman that’s set in her ways. But one knows these kinds of things. Especially when you’re at my age.”

I pulled her hands away from my cheeks and pulled them tight in my own hands, “Stop saying that. You have a long life ahead of you. So, stop saying such things.”

Suddenly, Nana looked up at me with a bright smile, “Who knows. Maybe I really am wrong about this. Maybe I’ll live to see a million sun rises. Maybe I’ll be here when you yourself become a grandmother. Who knows, right?”

I tried to pull myself together. I didn’t think she was placating me, “Good. You are not abandoning me right now. You hear that?”

“Right.”

“That didn’t sound that reassuring, Nana.”

“I’m staying right here with you, my sweet girl.”

…………………

The coldest moment I experienced that winter. With the month of February passing by as I stood in the kitchen. I heard my phone ringing from the living room, so I hurried over.

I picked it up from the coffee table and saw my cousin Jack’s name. Wondering why he would be calling me out of the blue, I answered.

“Hey, Jack. How are you?”

There was silence on the other end for a moment and then I heard Jack’s voice through the phone, “Hey, Tina. I’m good. Where are you right now?”

I sat down on the sofa and replied, “I’m at home. Why? You dropping in for a visit?”

“Huh? Oh no. Uh, Tina? It’s about Nana.”

I shot upright, “Why? Is she okay? Did something happen?”

“She’s at the hospital. The doctors said—” he broke off for a moment, “She wants to see you. Come over as soon as possible.”

I started panicking, “Jack, you’re not telling me what’s going on. What happened?”

“Tina, please just come over. I’ll text you the name of the hospital.” And with that he hung up.

I was full on panicking after that. I grabbed my coat from the hanger, put on my boots, picked up my car keys and was out of the door in seconds.

The entire ride to the hospital was a panic stricken one. I didn’t know what was going on. But it sounded bad.

After I rushed to the hospital, I requested her room. The moment I entered the room, I saw Nana hooked on various tubes and a doctor monitoring her beside her bed. When he saw me, he came over.

“Tina Fleischman?”

“Yes. Is she okay?” I asked while wringing my hands.

The doctor took a deep breath and replied, “I’m sorry, ma’am. She doesn’t have long. At this point all I can say is that you should all take this time to say your goodbyes.”

He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and moved out of the room.

I stood there frozen. My brain not catching up with the words the doctor had just spoken. I felt something wet on my face and when I placed my hand on my cheeks, I realized I was crying.

I was jolted out of my trance when I heard my Nana, “Tina.” She sounded so weak and tired.

I walked over to her bedside and saw her open her eyes slightly. She gave me a small smile, “My dear, sweet girl.”

I choked out through my tears, “You promised you wouldn’t leave me. You promised.”

Her smile turned sad, “I know, dear. I’m so sorry.”

I took her small and frail hand in mine, “Don’t apologize. Just know that I need you. Always.”

She squeezed my hand lightly and said, “Tina, listen to me. You have to be strong. I know you can be strong, I’ve seen it. Your journey isn’t ending right now. Keep moving forward. Don’t stop living, not even for a single moment. Do you hear me?”

I nodded, tears streaming down my face.

“Promise me, Tina. Promise you won’t stop living.”

“I p-promise.”

“Good,” she whispered with a whimsical smile on her face. She slowly closed her eyes. The lines on her face becoming relaxed. Her grip on my hands turning lax.

I whispered to her, “Don’t go.” I said it again, “Don’t go, Nana. Please don’t leave me.” I kept saying these words to her. But she doesn’t respond back.

She’s gone.

……………………

Nana is gone. Once those words scared me. The thought of facing a reality where she wasn’t a part of my life, scared me.

Now, I’m strong enough to say, ‘She’s gone. She’s no longer here with me,’ and not feel the impact of those words as strongly as before. It hurts sometimes. Thinking about her. Knowing she isn’t here with me anymore. But following on the heels of that hurt is a smile. A smile for all the time we did get to spend together.

I know that she lives on within me. Within all those people whose life she had impacted. Even in the smallest of ways. Her memory lives on. And that has to be enough.

                    …………………

Three words. Just three simple words. But they hold an ocean of hurt in them. Both physical and emotional. A hurt so deep that I feel like I might drown in it. That I might never survive long enough to pull myself out of it.

The doctor stands in front of me, holding my reports in his hands.

“You have cancer.”

You have cancer.

I have cancer.

Cancer.

“I don’t understand,” I reply in a monotone. Feeling my heartbeat like a metronome. Nothing affecting it. Not even the news that has the potential to kill me. To actually kill me.

I try not to think of that as I focus on the doctor’s words more closely, “The mammography of your reports is positive. You have cancer. It’s troubling news. But we can work with this. The cancer is at stage one, which means it’s curable if treated properly by specialists.”

“I have cancer.”

“Yes, Mrs. Riggs. But as I’ve said, we can work with this. We have a state-of-the-art facility here and the best doctors available at a moments notice. We can work with this.”

“I have cancer.” For some reason I keep repeating those words. As if willing them to settle in. Willing them to become part of my normal. Part of my routine. A routine that has worked for me for years.

It’ll work again if I add this new development to the routine, right? I think to myself. My voice still at a constant, even in my thoughts. It’ll work. I know it will.

I have cancer.

Cancer.

“Mrs. Riggs?”

The doctor’s voice jolts me out of my reverie, and I try to focus on his face again, but everything seems blurry. I try to focus on anything, but my vision is still blurry. It takes a moment for me to realize that tears have filled my eyes.

I blink harshly and turn towards the doctor, “Am I going to die?”

Tragedies strike in three.

Always in threes.

First Sam.

Then Nana.

Now me.

Tragedies strike in threes.

Oh God, I’m going to die.

I can’t die.

I picture the faces of all those I love.

My children.

Rebecca.

Steve.

My sister.

Stephanie.

My family.

Oh, dear God. I can’t die.

I can’t die.

I have cancer.

Tragedies strike in three.

I can’t die.

I have cancer.

Tragedies strike in three.

These constant buzzing in my ears. The same words spoken again and again. I can’t focus on anything besides these words. My world feels like it’s crashing itself around me. My perfect world. My perfect world that I had tried to remake so many times before. After every tragedy, I had to rebuild my world from the ground up. Not just for me, but for the people I loved.

Tragedies strike in three.

Third times a strike.

Strike one! Sam.

The pain I carried from Sam’s death was still in me.

Strike two! Nana.

Not a day went by that I didn’t think of her. That I didn’t feel her absence like a hollowness inside of me.

Strike three!

You have cancer.

Cancer.

I’m going to die.

But this time, I would be the one who had to go. Leaving everyone behind.

You’re out!

……………………

Pain is the price of living. I realized that fact all too late. For most of my life, I thought that if I just worked hard, stayed focused on the right path, then I would have the life I dreamed of. I wasn’t as presumptuous to think that I deserved something lavish and grand. But I was content with the life that I had.

Content with my life because I believed it was perfect. And for the most part, it was. Until it all came crumbling down. This illusion of perfection that I had conjured up for myself. It broke down. The only collateral damage was me. And pain was the price I paid for holding onto that dream.

…………………

20^th of March. My second phase of chemotherapy starting today. I felt a hollowness inside of me. All of this surreal to me. The sunlight streaming into my hospital room. The light blinding in its intensity as it hit my eyes. The chirping of the birds outside. The flowers that were on my bedside table. The condensation of the glass filled with water.

The drip… drip… drip of the IV hooked onto me.

All of it felt like something out of a vague dream. I didn’t feel anything. There was just this bottomless pit inside of me where my emotions usually raged.

Was this what it meant to die? Was this what it meant to take your final steps before death claimed you?

………………….

This is my third session. I’m feeling weaker and weaker every time I come back. But I persevere.

Dr. Elijah enters my hospital room and asks, “How are we feeling today.” He stands beside my bed, clipboard in hand.

I get a daily rendition of this question and each time my answer is the same.

“Fine.”

But it’s never the truth. I can’t even begin to answer that question with the truth. Because the truth is messy and it’s heavy and it has the potential to bring everything crashing down beside me. So, my answer is always the same. Even though I want to answer with, “I feel like my heart is about to burst. I want to destroy everything around me if only to really show the world the torment I’m going through.”

But the good doctor is satisfied with my answer   r as he gives me a smile and writes a few things down on his clipboard.

“Feeling nauseous?” he asks after a few moments.

“Not much. But I have a bad headache.”

“That much can be expected after a chemo session. I’ve written down a prescription for you. Fill it up. The nurse will be in to check your vitals. In the meantime, I suggest that you get some much needed rest. This session was a particularly grueling one.”

I nod. And it’s believable.

The doctor leaves after that with a gentle smile on his face and I feel my aching joints rattle with the breath I release. Pain is etched onto every part of my body but I’m still persevering.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the room weren’t jarring enough for me at the moment, as I felt myself drifting off. I was so tired. I just needed to rest for a bit.

I open my eyes abruptly when I feel a cool touch of a hand on my forehead. I see someone sitting beside me, gently caressing my hair.

When I realize who it is, I feel tears fill my eyes.

“Nana,” I choke out through the tears and I see her smile. That smile which was my saving grace.

“Hello, Tina.”

I try to wipe the tears from my face as I take a good look at her. Her radiance blinding me, “Are you here to take me with you?”

She frowns at me, “No, sweetheart. I’m not here to take you with me. You need to live on. You have so much to live for. Why would you want to leave?”

“Because then I’ll have you. And Sam. I don’t know if I can handle everything on my own. Without you.”

She smiles at me, “You’re made of stronger stuff, Tina I know you can handle anything that life throws at you.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“I do. Because I believe in you. I’ve always believed in you. And now it’s time you believed in yourself. Believe in the strength that is within you. Call it to yourself, and you’ll make it through this tough battle just fine.”

“What if I can’t? What then, Nana?”

“You can.”

“I miss you so much, Nana. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss you.”

Her voice turns chiding, “But I’m with you, dear. Always.”

Always.

I wake up from my dream with tears still streaming down my face. And I smile. Really smile for the first time in months. I can whither this storm as well. I’m strong now.

I can do it.

………………….

Life is a series of events. These events bring about great change. Some good, while there are others that bring nothing but bad omen in our lives.

I’ve lived my life with the constant assault of these so-called bad omens. And my reaction to them is always visceral. I break down. And in that moment, I get a feeling so deep in my bones. A feeling that says, ‘You won’t make it out this time.’ But each time… I do.

In the process, I become someone strong. Far stronger than I was before.

I’m not going to die.

This isn’t my time to die.

I will make it out of this.

I open my eyes after I’ve repeated these words in my head a few times and see the doctor looking patiently at me.

I sigh, “Let me hear it, doc.”

He gives me a small smile, “Are you up for a double mastectomy on both sides of your breast? Trust me, Caroline. You’ll be in my capable hands and I’ll make sure that all your cancer cells are removed. Your surgery will be a success.”

I smile back at him, “I trust you, Dr. Elijah. Let’s do this.”

Let’s do this.

I’ll fight this cancer. Fight it with everything I have in me. And then I’ll begin my life anew.

We arrange the date. He prescribes me the medicine I need to take on the day of the operation. And then I’m off.

………………….

Lost in my musings I arrive home and take my keys out.

When I open the door I’m bombarded with shouts and yells, “Welcome Home!”

I hear confetti popping, but I have no clue why my sister, children, and various family members are standing crowded around the door with full mischievous grins on their faces.

When all the greetings are done, a hush falls over the room and everyone looks expectantly at me. It takes me a moment to realize that they’re all expecting a speech of some sort.

I search through the sea of faces for Rebecca and Steve and find that they have tears in their eyes too. But among the tears are smiles.

I face the room and clear my throat, “This is… I don’t even know what to say,” I take a deep breath to settle the tears but it’s too late. I feel the corners of my eyes leak. The tears are no longer contained.

I try to talk through the tears, “You guys have no idea home m-much this means to me,” I stammer. I notice a few misty eyes around the room.

I focus on my children again. My beautiful children. My strength. My pillars. And then I start sobbing uncontrollably.

Stephanie and Rebecca rush at me and pull me into their embrace as I sob like a little child.

I realize then what I didn’t before. I was not alone. I didn’t have to bear any of this on my own. Without even realizing it, I had isolated myself because I thought that this was my burden to bear and mine alone. But now I knew that I didn’t have to be strong on my own.

These people around me were my strength. They were here today to tell me just that. That they were here for me. And they always would be.

I felt my spirits lift. My heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

I was going to be okay. Everything would turn out okay. As long as I had these precious people besides me, I would be okay.

I finally realized what Nana meant when she said that I could make it out of any storm unscathed. She had said that it was because she believed I was strong. This is what she meant. This was the strength she was talking about all along.

………………….

The day of the surgery. I’m a ball of nerves. The overall surgery isn’t that long, and Dr. Elijah just described all the potential health risks and everything.

I settle into the sofa in the doctor’s office to await further instructions. Rebecca sits to my right, my hand in her own. Stephanie keeps fluttering about the room in an anxious tizzy. While Steve looks calm as he looks through the brochures that the doctor left for us.

It feels like I have a undergo a big test today and I didn’t prepare for it at all. I’m anxious. And judging from the energy in the room, everyone else is the same.

This is it. I’ll be rid of this cancer today. Dr. Elijah said that the chances of a complication during surgery is very low. And I have to trust that the doctors will do their very best. I have to believe that.

When it’s time for the surgery, I’m told to put on the hospital gown. They take my vitals and then I’m ushered off to the operating room.

The hugs and kisses that I got from my family before is what replays through my head as I’m wheeled into the room. Their reassuring words and well wishes. Just repeating them in my head is somewhat calming me down.

It isn’t until the surgeons are about to place the anesthesia mask on my face that I replay the words Nana told me. It feels like so long ago.

Tina, you have so much strength in you.

You have to be strong. I know you can be strong, I’ve seen it. Your journey isn’t ending right now. Keep moving forward. Don’t stop living, not even for a single moment. Do you hear me?

Promise me, Tina. Promise you won’t stop living.

And those words that I had heard her whisper to me in that dream, so long ago.

You need to live on. You have so much to live for.

I believe in you. I’ve always believed in you. And now it’s time you believed in yourself. Believe in the strength that is within you. Call it to yourself, and you’ll make it through this tough battle just fine.

I can do this. I can do this. I know I can.

That is the mantra that keeps repeating itself inside of my head as I start feeling the effects of the anesthesia set it.

I can do this.

I can do… this.

I can… do this.

I… can.

…I… will.

………………….

In every phase of our life, we must face hurdles. Each time there are new hurdles. Every tiny thing on this earth is trying to shape us. It all depends on the person really. How they face their problems. Do they fight them head on? Or do they wait patiently for them to disappear?

I tried doing both. Because even though my life is extremely good now. That wasn’t always the case. I have faced so many problems in my life. Weathered through harsh storms. And I haven’t always come out unscathed. Some situations were extremely difficult for me. But I persevered. Because I had so many people who loved me, right beside me. And in the end, that was what made all the difference in the world.

Sometimes, I had to be strong for them. And sometimes they lent me their strength. It was because of this that I faced every curve that life threw at me.

And I came out stronger in the end because of this.

Seven years have passed. I sit in a lounging chair in the backyard, away from the harsh glare of the sun.

All my days were spent with my family. The past traumas that I went through, something that I didn’t dwell on. Not because I couldn’t handle them when I thought of them. But because thinking about them invoked a sense of sadness in me. A sadness that fluttered away whenever I was surrounded by the people I loved.

It would be foolish of me to say that I wished for a life without any messy bits. Because life wasn’t that way. A life without misery and toil would be a fantasy.

And life isn’t a fantasy.

We wake up every day and live our life in a series of events. We make our own choices in life. We live each moment to the fullest.

Friends and family. We live for them. We live for those that live for us.

And with that, the past is no longer a series of horrible slashes. It’s just what it is, the past. No longer having a hold of me. A moment in my life. A series of events.

The life I spent before everything, is a vague blur.

Because the life I live now is my real life. Or more like… my second life.